Sam
Date of Passing: 06/12/2026
Tell us about Sam: I am sorry to announce that on Friday, Sara and I had to say goodbye to Sam, AKA the Honorable Samuel Wigglebottom.
Originally from Georgia and called Gunner, Sam came north in the fall of 2017 at the age of four, thanks to Placing Paws Rescue. He joined the Staben menagerie in March of 2018. While he fell in love with Polly, my first dog, at our initial meet and greet, he coexisted with his cat siblings, Tig and Ben, often eyeing them with suspicion.
A Rottweiler and German Shepherd mix, Sam looked fierce and barked even more fiercely, but, in truth, he was a totally awkward goofball who loved string cheese, any person who came to the house (especially workmen), and naps. He didn’t care for vegetables or fruit or for making direct eye contact. Sam had a strong sense of personal space; he was not a snuggly or overly affectionate dog. However, he showed his love by wanting to be in whatever room Sara and I were in—close enough to keep an eye on us but not too close.
From 2018 – 2021, my phone is full of pictures of Sam and Polly—at the dog park, walking at the beach or in Lyon’s Woods, snoozing on matching Costco dog beds in my office or in our family room, traveling into Chicago for weekends at my mom’s condo or to northern Wisconsin for a summer getaway. Polly liked Sam but Sam looooooved Polly. When Polly developed osteosarcoma and had to have her front leg amputated in 2020, Sam patiently waited for her to recover before engaging in more slowly moving play. I think he helped her last as long as she did (almost a year and a half after her initial diagnosis) and he was there for her final moments.
After Polly’s death, Sam became the main dog in the house. We tried providing him with a canine companion, in the form of Ruby, an adolescent Great Pyrenees mix, but it turned out that Sam just missed Polly and wasn’t interested in bonding with another dog. After a year, we found Ruby a better fit, and Sam was happy to be the only dog again.
Sam was famous (or infamous) for many things—silent farts that caused him to leap up in surprise because he didn’t realize it was coming from him, fixating on and chasing flying insects (especially flies) inside and outside the house, getting clingy only when he wasn’t feeling well, and singing to the sirens we hear frequently, being so close to a hospital. I must have 30 different videos of him howling—in various rooms of my house and outside in the yard.
Over the last few years, the only real sign of Sam’s aging was the grey in his muzzle. As recently as this January, I have a video of him zooming back and forth between rooms and playing with an Ace bandage he had fully unrolled. However, this spring he developed several ailments that began to slow him down and this last month, the decline was rapid.
With the help of the hospice services of Dr. Libby at A Gentle Goodbye and my dogsitter, Jay, we worked to make Sam’s last month as comfortable and normal as possible. He still loved taking a walk up and down the block several times a day, sniffing and leaving pee-mail for the neighborhood canines. Just two weeks ago, we were so surprised when Sam, usually a bit barky and reactive to other dogs, dragged Sara over to meet and greet our new neighbor’s dog. The joyful tail wagging and butt wiggles reminded me of when he first met Polly.
However, this last week was especially rough, and we could tell it was time. Sam, stubborn to the end, left this world on his own terms, under the dining room table, and surrounded by the people he loved—me, Sara, Jay, and Dr. Libby. It couldn’t have been more peaceful.
I’m sad but in a bittersweet way. My house seems very quiet and it’s strange to have the rhythms of dog ownership so disrupted. No early morning or late-night walks or looking at my watch to be sure I’m not away from home too long. However, I am so thankful for the years I had with Sam. For all his goofy stubbornness, he was a great companion and he will be missed.